


Pending Messages

by kirbapy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirbapy/pseuds/kirbapy
Summary: Simon would write messages on his skin everyday; there was no response. For his soulmate was a monster, they were a vampire. So in pain, Baz would never respond. And it broke both their hearts.(Might be continued, but can be considered a oneshot at the moment.)





	Pending Messages

He would write onto his skin everyday; the words would flow just like the magic that burst from his very soul. With the ink from whatever cheap pen he found lying around, he etched every thought and feeling onto his skin; whether it was a simple little doodle or even little messages.

But there was no response. 

And every night, here he was, our protagonist, writing on his skin, till the tears washed each little mark away.

Simon Snow was born without a soulmate. 

\--

For every message that popped up on his skin, it brought a taste of annoyance as crisp and vivid as the metallic blood that would grace his fangs. Seeing that cursed ink, anything from the cheap red of a commoner’s pen, to the blackness akin to his hair. It was like thoughts invading his mind, a story being written on him without his permission; terrible drawings found their way to every nook and cranny on his pale body.

And he never responded. 

And everyday, when each message drew itself onto his skin, no matter how hard he tried to let the annoyance continue to bubble in him, he felt a bud of joy blossoming in his heart till the messages washed themselves away.

Tyrannus “Baz” Basilton Grimm-Pitch was born with a soulmate. 

\--  
If Baz could have, he would have. He would have responded to every single note and would have drawn with whomever held the pen to their skin. But he couldn’t; he shan’t. For he had been taught. Taught to roll up his sleeves, taught to cover every last inch of skin. Taught to never allow the itching urge to write back win over his own will. 

And despite the natural born rebel in him, despite the disregard for the rules, Baz wouldn’t write back. For he was a monster; a terrible one at that. One that hurt and one that killed. 

Baz was a vampire. 

And he would never let his soulmate be hurt.

Baz was a vampire in love with the ink on his skin.

\--

It was cold. The frigid air rushed through all the students, and each one wrapped themselves in anything they could find; blankets, scarfs. Some even brought those weird orange heating pads, which Simon took note of. Maybe if he got some for Baz, he’d be able to make him shut up about all he open windows. And with Baz complaining less, he’d finally be able to know; know what Baz was plotting. 

Despite this cold, however, Simon was hot. Boiling hot. He didn’t bother covering his arms nor his legs, and felt as if through the cold, it only made the heat that much obvious. Simon found a creaky old bench and wiped the snow off with his hands tinged with pink and sat down. As Simon rested there, he could feel the snow piling on his shoulders as if he were just another part of the landscape, till he finally moved. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a single blue ballpoint pen, and he began to let the pen curve, forming the ink into the words that flowed out of his mind. 

'I hope you’re having a splendid day, soulmate. It’s snowing, you know. It’s rather funny--My last name is Snow.  
Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter; you never respond, and I doubt you’re really there.'

Awkwardly angling his arm, he twisted it around, trying to find more space, even though he did his best to write extra small. 

'I don’t ever get cold, which is a bit of a bummer, somehow. My roommate does though--A lot. It’s so frustrating, and I know he’s plotting something. I’m constantly thinking about him, and I’m waiting for the day I finally catch him doing, well, whatever it is he’s plotting.'

Simon switched his pen to the other hand, and although it was harder, less efficient, and a bit of a pain in the ass, he began to make marks on his other arm. 

 

'I wish you were real, soulmate. I think the reason you aren’t here being because of all the magic in my body--It’s too much. So it compensates by taking you away from me. I do wish you’d respond.'

Simon looked up from his arm with his piercing blue eyes. Baz was standing there across the courtyard. Glaring, he looked back down at his arms.

There was no reply.

\--

As Baz watched the snow fall onto Snow’s hair that stood out like a ray of sunlight, he couldn’t help but shudder, watching the snow pile onto each curl. And it hurt; it hurt because in his soul, Baz knew. The words that Simon spent arduous years writing were appearing on his underneath his jet-black coat, and he was going to ignore every single one of them. 

And he knew; he knew that he could never hold hands with Simon; he knew that they would never be able to be together. And it didn’t break his heart; not a bit. 

At least, that’s what Baz would tell himself. 

It didn’t bother him in the slightest; he was sure it was something else that brought that stabbing pain to his heart. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep--And no matter how much he complained about the cold, Baz knew. He knew he couldn’t sleep because he was wide awake, staring. Staring at his soulmate across the room. 

It had seemed as if something out of a novel; for the very crucible itself to place him and Simon in the same room together. And he knew from the moment he saw that cheeky grin, Simon was his soulmate; there was nothing that could compare to the adorable chicken scratch that Simon etched onto his skin. And after seeing it for years, he knew that the words on Simon’s skin were the words on his. 

Baz was going to kill that bastard. Whether he liked it or not.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chapter; sorry it's so short! I plan to update it at least once a weekish, hopefully 1,000 words+ per chapter. I'd love to keep it short, personally. If you have critique, I'd love that! Thank you for your time.


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